


Same Time, Next Year

by winterdaffodils (zhem1x5)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1794667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhem1x5/pseuds/winterdaffodils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It shouldn't have even started, they had nothing to bring them together, but all the best things are harder to stop than to begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Time, Next Year

**Author's Note:**

> This submission is part of HD Smoochfest on Livejournal. The theme this year is Media Remix, which invited participants to "remix" the story from a Book, Movie, or Television Show. The author/artist will be revealed at the end of the fest.
> 
> This was created for Prompt Number: M34  
> Original Work Name: Same Time, Next Year
> 
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Notes: My teapot loves me this I know, for she listens to me whine, puts up with my slacking, and is always willing to smack me for mistakes. Any remaining are mine, I can't not fiddle. Mods! I love you guys so much, thank you for putting up with me too, I know I push the line. Dear prompter of M34, thank you so much for the opportunity to experience this story, both through the film and my interpretation of it. I hope I don't disappoint. <3

 

**~ 2006 ~**

  
It started innocently enough, at least Draco thought it must have. A chance meeting in the last place either of them might have expected. But then, they hadn't given each other much thought in almost a decade, had largely ignored any mentions in the Prophet or, in Harry's case, The Quibbler. Their lives ran parallel, intersecting through friends and family, but never crossing in their own interactions. Draco had always been perfectly content with that fact.  
  
This was all Pansy's fault. Somehow, something he had done or maybe even forgotten to do had led to this utter travesty of a moment.  
  
Years ago Draco would have sworn he'd know that mess of hair anywhere. That every wizard everywhere could spot and identify the famous fringe at one hundred paces. But now, taking a considering sip of a very full bodied lager, Draco had to stop and look again, searching out that famous scar and wishing the wanker had bothered with a glamour so that Draco might have never noticed him.  
  
It didn't matter now though. Even in such a large room, they might as well have been alone for how aware Draco was of Potter walking toward a booth along the outer wall of the bar.  
  
There shouldn't have been any bad blood between them anymore, nothing really to indicate they had ever even breathed the same air, and yet all Draco wanted to do was duck back to his hired room and disappear.  
  
He lowered his head over the remainder of his drink, hoping to be overlooked but watching through his hair. When Potter came too close to his table between the door and wide bar, Draco ducked his head again. He could almost feel the heat of the other man as he moved past Draco's well-chosen seat.  
  
Draco sipped delicately at his drink, determined to be elegant if he was exposed.  
  
"Mind if I join you?" Strong fingers wrapped around the back of the chair beside him, pulling it out a bit.  
  
Draco slid the empty glass across his table and took a deep breath, feeling the brunet shift behind him.  
  
"I'm not sure that's allowed, Potter," he replied slowly, that all too easy drawl barely colouring his tone.  
  
Draco looked up at the other man, shaking the pale strands of his hair away from his face. It did no good to hide behind them when he'd already been sighted.  
  
"Even among strangers, I think it might offend someone to see us acting cordial toward one another."  
  
Potter blinked at him, clearly surprised to find a familiar face.  
  
Draco offered him a polite smile. "You can withdraw your offer now."  
  
Gryffindor courage seemed to swell inside Potter's chest, a strange smile stretching across his face.  
  
"No, Malfoy, I definitely think a drink is in order."  
  
*  
  
“Go away, Potter,” Draco muttered when the other man came back to help himself to the only other seat at his table and sat a pint down in front of him.  
  
“Nah,” Harry answered nonchalantly, a queer little self-satisfied smirk on his face as he toasted Draco with his drink and took a healthy swallow. “I didn't poison it,” he promised when Draco continued to ignore his own. “Here,” he sighed, standing again and leaning over the table to swap their glasses. “Perfectly safe.”  
  
Draco met his eyes squarely, reaching to take Potter's abandoned drink and gulping down the rest before pushing the empty glass back to Potter's side of the table.  
  
“See, we can be perfectly companionable,” Potter praised, sipping at the full pint. “So, what are you doing here, Malfoy?”  
  
“Having a pint,” Draco answered easily, pointing at the empty glass in a smug salute.  
  
“Prat,” Harry muttered, drinking from his own with a grimace Draco thought must be at the company rather than the taste of the ale. “Good to know some things never change.”  
  
“Everything changes,” Draco gainsaid, turning a careless eye on Potter. “What brings the honoured Auror so far from home?”  
  
“I would ask the same,” Harry answered, settling more comfortably into his seat and taking a longer drink of his ale.  
  
*  
  
“It was Ginny,” Harry muttered some while later, pushing aside a few empty glasses and looking over at Draco who only quirked a curious eyebrow. “They offered me a promotion. Head Auror. And I just don't know if I want it.”  
  
“You were practically bred for it,” Draco acknowledged, draining the last inch from his fo-sixth pint and wondering vaguely if he should have been drinking at all with Harry Potter sitting two and a half feet away from him.  
  
*  
  
“You are aware we don't have anything to catch up on,” Draco asked curiously, shoving his own hair back behind his ear because it might be too odd to reach across the table and do it to Potter's mop. “We share no fond memories. Even the bad memories are completely overshadowed by the War. And I did my NEWTS by Owl. We didn't 'bond' in McGonagall's precious eighth year. Why are you at my table?”  
  
“Seemed fun,” Harry answered with a shrug. “Another?”  
  
“Just one,” Draco agreed, though that's what he thought he'd said thr-five pints ago.  
  
*  
  
Draco woke to a Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch game kicking off in his skull, his pained groan lost in the feel of bludgers bouncing against his skull. He groaned again, rolling away from the harsh glint of the sun through the lightly patterned curtains. An answering groan distracted him easily from the warm press of bare flesh against him. Despite the bright light and the lingering ache in places he wasn't thinking about just then, Draco jerked away, sitting up to stare down at the dozing form of one Harry Potter.  
  
How much had they had to drink last night?  
  
*  
  
"Look, Potter--"  
  
"Harry," Harry answered, slipping on his shirt and watching as Draco adjusted his tie.  
  
"What," Draco asked, stopping to stare in a fair bit of confusion.  
  
"Harry. My name."  
  
"I've called you Potter for the last fifteen years."  
  
"Yeah, I kinda figured it was time that changed. You didn't mind it last night."  
  
Draco frowned, suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of calling out Harry as Potter pushed inside of him for the first time.  
  
*  
  
“We should probably talk about this,” Draco murmured, running a hand through his hair and dropping to sit somewhat uncomfortably at the foot of the bed.  
  
Harry left off tugging his pants into a more comfortable position, wondering if this was the moment Draco became the Malfoy of their past: threatening and sneering to get his way. “Alright,” he agreed cautiously, settling against the headboard and staring at the back of messy blond hair.  
  
“Well, I...” Draco began hesitantly, fumbling with the socks he hadn't managed to put on yet. “It was fantastic, wasn't it,” he asked, glancing over his shoulder to meet Harry's eyes.  
  
“Yeah,” Harry agreed softly, warmth filling him all the way to his toes. “But we shouldn't do it again,” he added quickly, shifting guiltily.  
  
“Today or ever,” Draco asked before he could stop himself.  
  
“Both. Neither? I don't know,” Harry muttered, a silly grin spreading across his face as he leaned forward to drag Draco back down on top of him.  
  
*  
  
“So, what's Astoria like,” Harry asked, settling against the back of the small lounge with a curious grin.  
  
Draco stopped brushing at his hair and sat, joining Harry with obvious hesitance. “Are you sure you want to do this,” he asked carefully, looking at Harry like he was waiting for him to pull the other one.  
  
Harry shrugged, picking at the denim fraying over his left knee. “Well, we all went to school together, but it's like we're complete strangers.” He frowned at himself but shrugged again. “It seems like the war should have brought us all closer, healed the rifts, rather than continue driving us apart.”  
  
Draco sat a little slack-jawed, awed despite himself.  
  
“Just whatever comes to mind,” Harry continued, his grin widening a bit. “One good one and one really rotten one.”  
  
Draco sighed, fidgeting a bit with his tie and then consciously dropping both hands to his sides. “Astoria is... the worst thing about Astoria is that she's still a proper Pure-blood,” he muttered, finishing all in a rush before glancing up for Harry's reaction.  
  
Harry sat for a long moment, trying to decide between snorting at the implied hypocrisy of that statement and feeling a tiny piece impressed that that was all Draco could find wrong with her. “I'm afraid you'll have to clarify,” he settled on saying with a mostly straight face.  
  
Draco's hands twitched, needing something to do while he sorted out what he really wanted to say. He stared down at the plain though expensive platinum band on his left ring finger before holding up his right hand to display his signet ring. “We were arranged, long before all of... that, we both knew it and didn't think much on it. It was what all proper Pure-bloods do.” He shrugged, looking away quickly to avoid Harry's expression. “I really thought, after everything, things would change. But as soon as our name was cleared and our vaults released, Father pushed for the marriage. We've been married for almost six years now.”  
  
Harry frowned, chewing on his lip and turning a bit more to face Draco. “That doesn't sound so bad,” he pointed out curiously, watching as Draco's face pinked.  
  
“It's not,” Draco defended immediately, on his feet and pacing in the space of a breath. “I just, it was supposed to be different. But her family wasn't really a part of the war and sometimes she still clings to the ideals of our grandparents' generation even though they've quite appropriately been stomped into dust. And my father encourages her! But it's not what I—”  
  
Harry's hands clamped over Draco's mouth and rested against the back of his neck, silencing his tirade and calming him quickly. “I understand,” he whispered as grey eyes blinked at him and Draco shifted in his arms. “It's okay, I understand now.” He caressed Draco's jaw, pulling him into a slow and teasing kiss. “Now, tell me the good story,” he murmured as they parted.  
  
“It won't make sense, not really,” Draco answered softly, his hands slipping down to rest on Harry's hips, keeping him close. “But she made me believe in myself again. Maybe for the first time, I don't really know...”  
  
“How did she do that,” Harry asked gently, his own fingers tangling in Draco's hair.  
  
“She married me,” Draco answered with a sudden burst of humour. “I told you it made no sense,” he muttered when Harry only frowned again.  
  
“Explain it how you understand it.”  
  
“After the wa—alright, after Voldemort, damn you,” Draco began, his body tense against Harry's. “Even with our money and land and status returned, it would have been the work of a moment for us to disappear from society completely—locked away in the Manor, disreputable, loathed—I would have welcomed it as our due. She didn't let that stop her or tarnish her name; it was the salvation of my own.”  
  
“Do you love her,” Harry asked carefully, wary of Draco's reaction.  
  
“I honestly don't know,” Draco answered after a long moment. “I want to,” he interjected in the next second. “We're good to each other. We both adore Scorpius. We even—”  
  
“You don't have to justify it to me,” Harry cut him off, taking his hand and pulling him back down onto the lounge beside him.  
  
“What about Ginny,” Draco asked when they had been sitting quietly for a bit.  
  
“Gin's great,” Harry answered immediately, only to snort a second later. “She is great,” he amended quickly. “She gets me.”  
  
“And,” Draco prompted when that seemed to be all Harry would say.  
  
“The best thing about Ginny,” Harry continued purposefully loud, tucking his arm around Draco's shoulders with a grin. “It really is that she understands where I'm coming from. It wasn't quite the same, but she went through a similar experience. The connection, him in her head,” Harry grimaced, his voice softening to a near whisper.  
  
“But,” Draco thought out loud, stopping himself with a frown, uncertain his input would be appreciated.  
  
“But,” Harry encouraged, his fingers twisting in the short blond hairs at the base of Draco's neck.  
  
“It's just that—and I don't mean to downplay or denigrate the trauma of her experience,” Draco qualified quickly, waiting for Harry's nod before taking a quick breath and plunging on. “But her experiences were with a seventeen year old figment who pretended to be a best friend...”  
  
“But-”  
  
“But,” Draco cut him off gently. “She had no memory then of any of the things he made her do. Does she now? Really?”  
  
“No,” Harry answered after a moment of thought. “She knows what we've told her about it but that's all.”  
  
Draco nodded like it had confirmed every thought he had ever had on the subject. “So she has no idea what it was like to be bound to him at the height of his power.”  
  
“I forget,” Harry murmured after a moment of realisation. “After everything, I forget sometimes that he lived in your house and that he could get to you anywhere too.”  
  
Draco followed Harry's gaze to his cotton covered left forearm with a resigned sigh. “He did,” he whispered. “And he could.. What's the worst thing about Ginny then,” he asked quickly. This was supposed to be fun for them, not emotionally gutting.  
  
“I'm a bit worried to tell it now,” Harry muttered, echoing Draco's thoughts. “Especially since it's quite terrible.”  
  
“Now you have to tell me,” Draco protested, drawing his feet up underneath him and turning to face Harry.  
  
Harry's face was set in an uncomfortable grimace, his fingers clenching at his sides until he reached out to cup one of Draco's ankles. “It was just really fucking awful.”  
  
Draco nodded slowly, feeling like something heavy had settled on his chest.  
  
“She didn't say it to me,” Harry prefaced hastily, his eyes on the soft floral pattern of the rug beneath his feet. “And I know she didn't mean anything horrible by it, but I heard her telling one of her former teammates that she wished we'd waited. That we hadn't started having children so soon. We got married because she was pregnant. We both agreed that she would go back to sport after, but now she's pregnant again. And they want me for Head Auror, which will take up loads of my time. What if she's miserable?”  
  
“She's not miserable, Harry,” Draco assured him, flexing his foot against Harry's hold. “She's loved you for ages. You'll find your way through this.”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry agreed faintly, hoping without much actual hope that Draco was right.  
  
*  
  
Draco stopped with his hand on the open door. “Would you,” he hesitated, his heart pounding in his ears. “You said before that you come here every year,” he prompted, turning just enough to look back over his shoulder at Harry.  
  
“Every year,” Harry confirmed, his hands clenched into shaky fists at his sides. “Same weekend, same room.” He couldn't bring himself to ask, though he wanted to.  
  
But Draco nodded and gave him a small smile. “I'll see you around,  _Harry_.”  
  


 

**~ 2011 ~**

  
  
  
“Any trouble getting away this year,” Harry asked breathlessly, his attention torn between doing to Draco's mouth what he wanted to do to his body and stripping him naked enough to do it.  
  
“Easily enough,” Draco answered, his own hands swiftly divesting Harry of his jeans. “Scorpius is used to my weekend away now.”  
  
Harry nodded distractedly.  
  
*  
  
“He's still afraid of the dark,” Draco whispered to the ceiling, Harry's arms wrapped tight around his waist.  
  
“That's normal, isn't it,” Harry asked sleepily, rubbing his nose against Draco's shoulder and blinking myopically at the serious expression on his face.  
  
“I guess.” Draco gave a half-hearted shrug, his eyes and mind on something far away.  
  
“He's still young,” Harry offered, leaning up on one elbow and letting Draco settle onto his back beside him. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to the corner of Draco's mouth. “Have you told him there's nothing to fear? That the guard peacocks will protect him from anything.”  
  
“I don't tell him anything,” Draco mumbled, looking up at Harry cautiously.  
  
“Why,” Harry inquired softly, his fingers stroking pale strands of hair away from Draco's face.  
  
“Who better than I would know the ghosts that linger there?”  
  


 

**~ 2016 ~**

  
  
  
“So,” Harry started when they had both had a moment to catch their breath. He tightened his grip on Draco for fear he would pull away. “Hogwarts next year.”  
  
They had been avoiding it for the last year or so, the looming disruption of their routine.  
  
Draco tensed, his hands fisting in Harry's hair before relaxing into light petting again. “So it is,” he drawled, shifting into a more comfortable position, his thighs flexing around Harry's hips.  
  
“Well, should we–”  
  
“Nothing has to change,” Draco told him when he broke the kiss, his forehead resting easily against Harry's, a grin growing on his face as Harry's cock twitched and hardened against him. “In fact,” he whispered, cheeky as you please, “I dare say you enjoy it.”  
  


 

**~ 2021 ~**

  
  
  
“Scorpius says you're paying him to keep an eye on Lily,” Draco murmured accusingly, running his fingers through Harry's mess of hair. “You do know that will backfire miserably?”  
  
“Only on Hogsmeade weekends,” Harry protested quickly, not quite as innocent as he thought. “And during breaks. And meals. And class. And I don't remember having that much free time when we were students. And he and Al and Jamie are all keeping an eye on her. And I generally pay in Wheezes or chocolate frogs, so it's all above board,” he offered, trying to smile reassuringly when he lifted his head to gauge Draco's reaction.  
  
“It's going to end horribly. Or in marriage,” Draco pronounced, feeling quite sure of himself as Harry's expression became considering.  
  
“Would that... I mean, would it be such a bad thing?”  
  
“If our children married? Tying our two families together? Insuring we spend at least some holidays and all major life events in close proximity, having to ignore each other pointedly or maintain a carefully polite distance.” Draco pressed his lips together in a tight line, feeling sorry for dumping so much reality on Harry at once. But, “it's hard enough seeing you at King's Cross at the beginning and end of the year, even knowing we'll have this weekend...”  
  
Harry's fingers found and gripped his tightly. “Maybe we could, maybe there's something?”  
  
Draco kissed him, hard, intent on derailing and destroying that train of thought as quickly as he could, trying to make himself forget how much he wanted it too. Before it consumed him.  
  


 

**~ 2026 ~**

  
  
  
"Don't say anything," Draco warned as he shut the door behind him. "We haven't much time."  
  
The rented room darkened immediately, a single candle burning beside the bed, heavy brocade curtains letting in meagre light.  
  
He couldn't really see Harry, couldn't even hear him as he stepped closer. He could only feel that beloved presence for a moment before Harry took him into his arms and held on tightly.  
  
"You're late," Harry breathed against his skin, his hands tracing over Draco's shoulders gently. He was a real, solid presence, comforting Draco more than he'd realised he'd yet needed.  
  
"I'm sorry," Draco agreed softly, letting his own fingers slip up into Harry's wild hair. The strands curled around his fingers in that familiar way and Draco tightened his grip carefully. "Scorpius," he whispered, the only explanation he had.  
  
"It's fine," Harry promised, his eyes almost glowing in the soft light. He was naked, his warm skin pressing against Draco, burning into his flesh through his clothing.  
  
"I want," Draco faltered, swallowing a guilty grimace and sliding his fingers through Harry's hair again. He offered a tight smile, feeling like his face might crack, before pulling Harry into a slow kiss.  
  
Harry let him, kissing back like they were lovers separated by more than just their lives, his hands were gentle as he gripped and held Draco. "It's okay," he murmured between kisses, his lips trembling against Draco's just a little. "It's okay."  
  
"I know," Draco answered, his breaths ragged and easily blamed on the kissing. He guided Harry's fingers to the buttons of his shirt, pushing him to undo them from the top while he worked upwards from the last.  
  
Draco's hands shook just a little as he dropped his shirt to the floor at his side, his muscles tensing and skin prickling as he waited for Harry's judgment.  
  
"You're beautiful," Harry whispered, his eyes never leaving Draco's cautiously upturned gaze. He stroked Draco's skin, his fingers following a long familiar path across scarred skin. "More lovely than I ever remember."  
  
Draco ducked his head again, watching Harry's careful fingers before reaching out to twine their fingers together. Harry gripped his hand in return, squeezing before letting go and reaching for the buttons of Draco's fly.  
  
Draco shivered, hard and aching already, worried about coming before Harry had even touched him properly. "The bed," he demanded gently, stopping Harry's hands before he could strip him completely. "On the bed this time."  
  
Harry grinned, smugness in every glint in his eyes. "I like you on the floor and against the wall."  
  
"I'm not as young as I once was," Draco countered, sitting on the small double bed and pushing his trousers and pants down his legs.  
  
Harry grinned, sliding between Draco's thighs and pushing him down against the bed. "Is that why you like the lights so low now? You don't want me to see your wrinkles?"  
  
"Fuck off, I don't have wrinkles," Draco complained, pulling Harry down on top of him and rolling his hips against Harry's.  
  
"Yes, you do," Harry whispered, pressing his lips against one that Draco particularly hated at the corner of his mouth. "I think they're sexy."  
  
"You'd better," Draco growled, pulling him into another kiss.  
  
Harry went willingly, his hands cradling Draco's jaw, his fingers straying into wispy blond hair as he rocked his hips against Draco's. "I thought you said we haven't much time," he asked after a long moment of just enjoying touching his lover. "It's agony to see you every year and not be allowed to touch you."  
  
Draco swallowed loudly, his own hands gripping Harry's left shoulder and right hip. He blinked quickly, looking back at Harry softly. "It is," he breathed, not imagining what it would be like if they had pushed each other for more.  
  
Harry's smile was gentle and a little broken, his eyes hazy and his hands heavy with the weight of words he couldn't speak. "It is," he said again, pressing his lips against the corner of Draco's mouth once more.  
  
*  
  
“What'd Scorpius want to talk about,” Harry asked a short while later, one hand stroking slowly over Draco's side while the other still gripped the sheets.  
  
Draco drew in a deep breath and let it out again slowly, his hands tightening around Harry's back.  
  
“Is everything alright,” Harry whispered, raising his head as far as Draco's arms would allow to look at him.  
  
“It's fine,” Draco promised with a smile so fake it was nearly painful before letting go enough to smooth Harry's wild hair.  
  
“Then tell me,” Harry cajoled, peppering little kisses over Draco's jaw and throat, his hands wandering a little more intently over Draco's skin.  
  
Draco ran his hands down Harry's back, clasping them together just above the swell of his arse, holding Harry firmly in place. “He wants to marry Lily,” he murmured.  
  
Harry froze, not breathing and fairly certain his heart had stopped beating as well. He knew what it would mean for them, how much harder it would be. He took a deep breath and swallowed loudly, forcing a not-quite smile of his own. “I'll talk to Gin,” he promised.  
  


 

**~ 2031 ~**

  
  
  
“I was starting to think you wouldn't come,” Draco called, turning from hanging his overcoat in the small closet. “Is everything okay,” he asked as soon as he saw Harry's face, abandoning everything when Harry only stared at him.  
  
“I almost didn't,” Harry admitted softly, his eyes tracking over every bit of Draco that he could see. “But I thought it might be easier here. Better... Better than just turning up at your house.”  
  
Draco blanched at the very thought, feeling ten times guiltier about it when Harry only watched him silently. “What's going on, Harry,” he asked gently, crossing the space between them with quick steps.  
  
Harry tugged him down onto their small lounge, his hold on Draco's hand carefully relaxed because he was feeling anything but. “There's a lot to tell you and if I don't hurry I may never manage it.” He shook his head and took a bracing breath. “First of all, Ginny knows about us. Has done for years now. I guess we weren't careful enough at Scor and Lil's family dinners.”  
  
Draco felt like he had been hit by a bludger, dizzy and shaky and completely disoriented. “Wh-when did you find out?”  
  
“A few months ago.”  
  
“And she's never said a word,” Draco asked faintly, wondering why she hadn't hexed him or poisoned him immediately. “Why now?”  
  
Harry braced himself for the varied possibilities of Draco's reaction. “She's leaving me. She wants a divorce,” he said quietly.  
  
“What,” Draco nearly shouted, his face gone red and blotchy. “This was never supposed to ruin your life,” he shook his head in dismay.  
  
"Ruined,” Harry snorted, dragging Draco back against him. “Who says this will ruin my life? Or hers? We deserve to be happy, and we both love each other enough to want that for the other. I think that might be the nicest story I've ever told about her.”  
  
Draco could only watch silently as Harry became even more animated.  
  
“I've been thinking about us a lot lately. About everything. Did you know we've made love a hundred and sixteen times, we're still on our honeymoon. And now that the children are grown, this is all that's holding us back.  
  
Draco's growing smile faded, his heart clenching. “Being married isn't all that's stopped us, Harry,” he corrected gently.  
  
“We could get married, Draco,” Harry whispered hopefully. “Be together always.”  
  
“That's not what you want, Harry, it's never been. Not really,” Draco declared angrily. “You've never wanted permanent, it terrified you!”  
  
“I want you now,” Harry shouted, neighbours or staff be damned because he needed this. Needed Draco with him every day.  
  
“You have me right now, Harry,” Draco pleaded, coming forward to take Harry's hand in his own trembling grip. “And next year and the next. Same time, same place, right?”  
  
Harry's sigh was weary and deeply felt, his eyes sad and apologetic. “I don't want to be alone, Draco. I deserve to be happy. After everything, we both do.” He shook his head. “I can't imagine anyone else would let us have this, would accept what we've had, what we've meant to each other. I don't want to spend the rest of my life hiding! Pretending you mean nothing! Please,” he gasped, his heart in his throat, he could taste the acid of it breaking. “Please, Draco, please say yes.”  
  
“I can't,” Draco breathed, his entire being like a tragedy.  
  
“Slytherins,” Harry huffed nastily. “Won't even act to save themselves unless there's no other option. I wish you could feel what I feel for you. Maybe it would thaw that icy heart.”  
  
Draco flinched, staring at Harry like he'd never seen him before. “Harry, I...” But there was nothing he could say, so he only shook his head.  
  
“I've gotta go,” Harry muttered, dragging on his coat with sharp, jerking movements. “I've got a portkey back to London. Molly's waiting to cook me a sympathy dinner and I have to tell Ron and...” he stopped, his hand on the doorknob and looking over his shoulder like Draco had that first morning. When they'd promised without promising that this would be for always. “I can't believe this is happening to us.”  
  
Draco watched, trembling, as Harry turned around and walked resolutely out of his life.  
  
The room was silent around him as he stumbled back to the lounge, his shaky legs hardly supporting him long enough to sit. He could almost hear the echoes of the years they had spent together in this small room.  
  
Draco drew in a shuddering breath, remembering the awe and comfort of waking up together for the first time and going to bed again.  
  
He clasped his hands between his knees, suddenly cold, remembering hiding in Harry's arms as he tried to forget the horror darkness sometimes hides.  
  
He twisted around, eyeing the bed where it had started, where it could have changed or ended but instead had only grown.  
  
The bed where they had both known exactly what they had wanted, where Draco had foretold their bleakest future and known it wouldn't be enough. Draco blinked away the haze in his eyes. Had he just let Harry go thinking it had been enough?  
  
Their future had almost broken them, so close to what they wanted and knowing it couldn't be theirs. Couldn't they just keep some part of it? He shuddered, alone and abandoned on his honeymoon because Harry thought he didn't want him enough. Didn't love him enough.  
  
Draco covered his face with a sob, jerking up guiltily when the door crashed open again and Harry barreled in, throwing his coat to the side.  
  
“Okay, goddamnit, I couldn't leave you,” he hissed, striding over to Draco's huddled form in a strop. “I just wanted you to marry me and I thought that if you thought I was willing to find someone else—for once in my life I wanted a happy ending. I don't want to talk about it anymore!”  
  
Draco shook his head, only just stopping from wrapping himself around Harry and clinging on forever. “I didn't want you to leave thinking—that I wouldn't, but one moment with you, even just one weekend a year, is enough for me, Harry, because I—”  
  
Harry kissed him hard, smashing their lips together uncomfortably with the fierceness building inside of him. “I'm back,” he swore viciously, “and I'm going to keep coming back every year until our bones are too brittle to risk contact!”  
  
Draco laughed, gasping and choking and entirely too happy as Harry crushed him against his chest like he meant to never let go. “I do love you, you know,” he hissed, meeting Harry with everything he had.  
  
“I know,” Harry breathed, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

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